


hand-to-hand combat with your former best friend

by madwithmissing



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Crushing, F/F, Fighting, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Pining, Violence, War, adora misses catra, but not super intense, except not yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 14:27:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17346890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madwithmissing/pseuds/madwithmissing
Summary: “You gonna fight back?” she whispers into my ear and I can hear her smile. I want to see it.orcatra and adora fight and adora doesn't like it





	hand-to-hand combat with your former best friend

**Author's Note:**

> this is set during that last fight in the rocks or whatever in the last episode i've only seen it once I'm sorry

Engaging in hand-to-hand combat with your former best friend is much more complicated than you might think. 

You think maybe you can outsmart her. Pinpoint weaknesses and take her down when she least expects it. You think maybe she would let her guard down.

You  _ don’t  _ realize that she knows all your weaknesses, as well. She knows everything about you and you are left unprotected. She’s smarter than you, Adora, and you would do well to remember it.

You don’t expect the emotion until it comes rushing at you in violent, winter waves.

You think you can smirk in her face and intimidate her, but when you look in her eyes, all you see is the girl you used to know. The girl you used to love.

I realize all this as she lunges at me and it makes me pause, falter, hesitate and in that one second, she’s scratching at me and trying to knock me down.

It’s almost working. 

I’m in a daze now. 

How did we get here?

Catra, what happened to us?

We always had each other’s backs and these last few weeks, we’re  _ on  _ each other’s backs.

She’s on my back, clawing at my collarbone. I feel skin split.

“You gonna fight back?” she whispers into my ear and I can  _ hear  _ her smile. I want to see it.

So, I throw her off of me, sending her flying a bit closer than I would’ve wanted.

The smile on her face remains. I stare. “There we are,” she says as she stands, “There’s the warrior I’ve heard so much about.”

I can hear war waging around me, arrows flying, the rush of water, the screams.

All I see is this: my heart standing in front of me. Her smile falters for less than a second, but it’s enough for me to visualize the girl that used to be. The girl who held my hand when I was scared and teased me when I got too confident and rubbed my back when I cried.

That girl leaves as quick as she came and I mourn the loss.

She jumps at me, but I’m hyper aware now and I slash at her with my sword before she can come within arm’s reach.

She hisses and falls when my weapon grazes her, splitting the clothes on her shoulder, blood racing out.

I have a visceral memory of a time when I helped clean a wound on her shoulder almost identical to that. It hadn’t been me who had inflicted it, but it was me who wrapped it up, gave her a hug, and stitched her shirt back together. 

I won’t be able to do that this time.

Before I know it, she’s up, wincing but trying to hide it. As if I don’t know what that looks like.

Blood pours from her shoulder, soaking into her shirt. I want to scrub it out.

I want to kiss her better.

I would do that sometimes, I remember.

Do you remember, Catra?

I would hold you until morning, pressing kisses to your scars to feign a semblance of healing. You always seemed to feel better after. 

Did it work then?

Would it work now?

She jumps towards me as I’m reminiscing and I don’t have time to keep her off. Her face is inches from mine. I can hear her breathe.

Before I betray myself and look at her eyes or her lips, I throw her off of me with all of my might.

She goes flying much further than she did the first time. So far, in fact, that she hits the rock behind her. 

I hear a sickening crack.

She must be unconscious after that, and war is still waging, so I run to her side and kneel by her head.

She’s bleeding, but not so much that she’s in grave danger.

It makes me worry anyway.

I push her hair from her face and, before going off to save the day, press a kiss to her forehead.

Engaging in hand-to-hand combat with your former best friend is much more complicated than you might think. 

My advice: avoid it at all costs.

Affairs of the heart don’t belong on the battlefield. 


End file.
